


The Perfect Christmas

by Talithax



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 22:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talithax/pseuds/Talithax
Summary: What causes Ethan to suddenly leave just before Christmas?





	The Perfect Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> \- Narrated by Will & self-beta'd.  
> \- As I still suck at coming up with summaries - all you really need to know is that it's a Christmas fic  
> \- Also, as per what is starting to be my very own tradition, I put off attempting to write said Christmas fic until close to the last minute, soooo... Hopefully it's okay!
> 
> Wishing everyone an absolutely marvellous festive season. May it be overflowing with whatever you want it to be!

================  
The Perfect Christmas  
by TalithaX  
================

 

“I'm sorry, but I've got to go.”

Although there's neither anything out of the ordinary in Ethan's statement nor any sort of issue with my comprehension of it, I nonetheless jerk my head up and gaze at him – as though he's suddenly grown a pair of antler – in mute, slightly dumbfounded surprise. Go? Go where? And... Why? Why now?

“Sorry. What...?” I somehow manage to grind out as, looking increasingly flustered, which in itself is highly unusual for Ethan and which in turn only manages to add to my own sense of mounting unease, he grabs his car keys from the top of the bench and moves back towards the kitchen door. “Ethan? I...” Falling silent in preference to coming across as though I'm whining, I take my glasses off, lean back against the chair, and look at him with what I truly hope is a hopeful – as opposed to petulant – expression on my face. 

“I'm sorry,” he repeats, pausing in the doorway to cast a fleeting glance over his shoulder that doesn't quite meet my eyes. “I know how much you were looking forward to spending Christmas together, but I... I've really got to go.”

“Is it a mission?” I query in a calm, even tone that, pathetically, I'm actually proud of. “If you can't tell me the specifics, that's fine, but...”

“It's not a mission,” Ethan interrupts with a sigh as, shoving the keys into the pocket of his jeans, he spins around and quickly makes his way back over to the table. “Hell, it's nothing more than an exercise in futility as it is,” he mutters, crouching down and placing his hand on my knee, “but... I'm sorry, Will, I've got to go. Now that I know, I... I've got to be there. It's illogical, and I know it's not going to achieve anything, but I... It's just something I have to do.”

“Then...” There being just enough raw emotion in Ethan's words to make quashing my own dismay at this unexpected turn of events all but effortless, I cup the palm of my left hand around his cheek and plant a soft kiss on the top of his head. “Go. I'll be fine. You know where to find me if you need me, and...” Pulling my hand back, I flash him a weak smile and, although both history and logic tell me that I'm only wasting my breath, add, “If there's anything I can do, or if you'd like me to go with...”

“I'll be fine,” he states, just as I knew he would, over the top of me as he stands up and gives my shoulder a quick squeeze before leaning forward and giving my cheek an even quicker kiss. “Now, I don't know when I'll be back, but I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Stay safe,” I murmur as, knowing there's no point in delaying the inevitable, I gesture towards the door. “Again, you know where to find me.”

“I...” Nodding, Ethan retrieves his keys from his pocket and begins to walk towards the door. “It should hopefully be only for a couple of days.”

“In that case, I'll be seeing you when I'm looking at you,” I reply, putting my glasses back on in anticipation of returning my attention to my now redundant list, the one I'd been working on to pull off a festive miracle in the thirty-six or so hours between now and Christmas morning. “Just... You've clearly got somewhere you need to be, so just go.”

“I'll make it up to you, you have my word,” he states, giving me one final glance over his shoulder before disappearing through the doorway.

“Yeah, whatever,” I mutter under my breath as the sound of the front door being pulled shut rings out through the otherwise silent house. Alone, and feeling at a complete loss as to what to do with myself now, I stare at my half completed list for what feels like an inordinately long period of time before throwing my glasses back down on the table and, for the want of anything better to do, deciding to make myself a cup of coffee. 

Just...

So much for the short lived delusion of getting to spend Christmas together. In fact, it could be said that the idea of it actually happening left both as quickly and as unplanned for as it came. I don't blame Ethan for having to go wherever it is he has to go, and I can even freely acknowledge that my shock is tinged with a degree of selfishness for having attached so much weight to the novelty of getting to be all domestic on Christmas Day in the first place, but...

I can't help it.

I'm disappointed. 

I'm disappointed that for the second year in a row I'm not going to get to spend Christmas with Ethan, my lover and, even more importantly, best friend, and I'm also disappointed that he couldn't even tell me the reason behind his sudden departure. If, contrary to what he said, it relates to a mission with a security level above mine, then, fine. The timing sucks, but work trumps everything and that's just that. If, however, it's because of something personal he feels as though he has to keep secret from me, then...

Actually, who am I kidding?

I'll take a step back, smile blandly, and I'll accept it as passively as I would it being a mission that I'm not allowed to know anything about.

Why? Because it's what I do. I blend in to the background, go out of my way to never rock the proverbial boat, and I... accept. Missions, tasks I honestly don't want to do, Hunley doing his Goddamn best to dominate me for six months, the fact that I'm now going to be on my own for Christmas because Ethan got a phone call that, for whatever reason, he can't tell me about – just about you name it and, in order to keep the peace, I'll accept it. It's just... easier... that way. I don't think of myself as a doormat to be walked over by all and sundry, and I'll speak up if I believe it's for the greater good, but if it just relates to me I've always found it simpler to bite my tongue and go with the flow.

So...

What will be will be.

Ethan's gone. Christmas has, yet again, been rendered a non-event. And, just as I always do, I'll find a way to carry on. Our last mission having been a complete bust for reasons entirely out of our control, we hadn't even meant to be home in D.C. for Christmas, so, hey, why work myself up into a massive sulk over something that I hadn't been expecting or looking forward to anyway? Pulling it, my vision of the perfect Christmas Day, off would have been non-stop and exhausting and, although Ethan had given every indication of being fully on board with my enthusiasm for all things Christmas once we'd got the news that we were not only being recalled but also given the time off, I know he would have been just as happy with ordering pizza and spending the day in bed.

So...

It's fine.

I'm fine with how things have turned out.

Christmas Day is just another day after all, and I can spend the time giving the house a good clean.

It...

It'll be fine.

It finally dawning on me that I've been standing, staring aimlessly at the coffee machine while I've been mentally delivering myself this depressing little pep talk about sucking it up and moving forward, I bite back a sigh and, giving up on coffee for the time being, walk out of the kitchen and head up the stairs to my bedroom. Ethan's bag already being gone, presumably because he was in such a rush to get going that he didn't want to stop by his house to pick up a fresh one, from where he'd dumped it on the bed, I open mine and, with a steely determination to not think about anything other than the mundane task at hand, set about preparing a load of washing. 

Two, maybe three – let's face it, it's not as though I have any real interest in the time – hours later, and after the clothes have been put neatly away, fresh sheets put on the bed, and my list on the kitchen table has been replaced with one, ranked in importance, of chores I feel need doing around the house, I sink down in an armchair in the living room and am idly contemplating whether I'm hungry enough to do anything about it when my cell rings. Answering it automatically, I've barely got the iPhone up to my ear, let alone grunted a greeting, when the familiar voice of Jane Carter brings the reality of my current situation, the one I've been doing my best to ignore, crashing back down around me.

“Tell me that wasn't Ethan I just saw stalking through the crowds here at Dulles,” she states, the words falling out of her mouth in a rush. “Oh, and before you ask, I'd go after him and ask himself, but my flight is finally boarding and I don't want to miss it.”

“Uh...” Closing my eyes, I rub my temple with my free hand and, for the second time since getting home this afternoon, wish like crazy this wasn't a conversation I was having to have.

“Come on, Will. Talk to me. Was it Ethan or not?”

“Uh...” It's not that I'm trying to be obtuse, it's just that I don't know what to say.

“If it was, then the question has to be... What on earth is he doing catching a flight when the two of you are meant to be having Christmas in D.C.. And, well, if it wasn't... God help us all, but there may be someone running around the airport wearing an Ethan mask... And you know how that ended up last time.”

“Yeah. Badly for all the innocent people on the plane,” I murmur drily as, regardless of her place in the boarding queue for her flight to Hawaii, I know there'll be no way of getting Jane off the phone unless she knows as much about what's going on as I do. “Look, Jane, I... For all I know it could have been Ethan, okay? He said he had to go a couple of hours ago and... uh... that was the last I saw of him.”

“Mission?” Jane demands with an unimpressed sounding snort of disbelief.

“Maybe. I don't know.”

“You asked him, yeah?”

“I did. And he said it wasn't.”

“And...”

“Now you know everything I do.”

“You let him walk out on you before Christmas without even telling you why?” Jane replies with another, although this one I suspect is directed at me, unimpressed snort. “What the fuck? That's just not right. You were so happy at the thought of getting to spend...”

“It doesn't matter,” I interrupt. “He's gone. I don't know why or where, and... And that's the end of it. I'm sure he has his reasons, good reasons, at that, and...”

“You're just going to shut down and wear it,” Jane finishes bluntly. “Come on, Will. Stand up for yourself for once. Nowhere is it written in stone that you just have to take Ethan's shit.”

“Jane, please... It's okay. He's promised to make it up to me, and...”

“Not. Good. Enough.”

“Well, it is what it is. He's gone, you're going to sun yourself in Hawaii, Benji's giving his family a thrill in England by being home for the holiday season, and I'm fine with it. Seriously. No-one was around last year either, so...”

“The very least you could do is track him.”

“What? No. If he'd wanted to tell me, he would have.”

“Crap. Ethan's no more capable of putting himself first than you are. Hell, in that respect you're a damn good pair.”

“What are you talking about? I...”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about. Even if he'd wanted to ask you to go with him he wouldn't have because he wouldn't have wanted to put you out. Just as, if the shoe was on the other foot, you never would have asked him to go with you either.”

“I...” She's got me there, and she knows it. “Whatever. It doesn't matter.”

“It does. And if you won't track him, I will.”

“Yeah, well... Good luck with that.”

“Granted, I know I've got no chance if he honestly doesn't want to be found, but, take my word for it, I'm going to give it a red hot go anyway. Will, you... You deserve better. I know Ethan must have had his reasons for his disappearing act, but what I also know is that he loves you and if there's any way I can intervene before this mess gets even bigger then, trust me, I'm going to take it.”

“Jane... Thank you for your concern, but, please, you don't have to...”

“Gotta go, they're calling my name out over the loudspeaker,” she exclaims, cutting me off. “Just... Leave it to me. I'll see what I can dig up once we're in the air and can use our phones again.”

“Jane...” Biting back a groan as I realise she's already terminated the call, I let the phone drop on to my lap and, opening my eyes, tilt my head back against the chair and gaze up at the ceiling. Of course I could have, if it was what I'd wanted, tried tracking Ethan myself. I could even go jump into the car now and drive like crazy in the hope of catching him at the airport before he boards his flight. But... To what end? To risk making a scene at Dulles? To learn a truth that, really, I may well be simply better off not knowing?

Whatever his reasons for up and leaving are, they're his and his alone, and I just have to respect that. It doesn't matter that I can see the truth in Jane's statement about how neither of us would ever ask the other to just... be there. Me, because I'd never expect the answer to be yes, and Ethan because he always believes the buck stops with him. We keep silent because that's just the way we are.

Not much liking the direction my thoughts are taking me, as in, perhaps it's going to take one of us manning up and speaking out to break through this entrenched... acceptance... of our positions in life, I stand up and decide that the time has finally come to have that cup of coffee. Although I contemplate turning my phone off and, just for good measure, burying it under a pile of cushions on the sofa, I nonetheless dutifully take it into the kitchen with me and have just carried my coffee over to the table when the first message arrives. 

Taking both a seat and a sip of coffee, I don't even bother feigning a semblance of willpower or disinterest and immediately open up Jane's message.

\- Firstly, he's making no attempt not to be found. Phone still on, car in plain sight in parking lot, ticket purchased in his own name. Secondly, he's ticketed on a flight to Madison that's due to board in 10 minutes. (So don't get all overcome and think you can make it to Dulles in time.)

Madison? Why on earth would he going there? Putting my cup down, I shake my head and read the message again. I know, not that he ever really talks about it, that he's from Wisconsin and still has family there, but to the best of my knowledge he's not close with any of them and I can say I definitely feel none the wiser as where any of this might be leading. 

\- But wait, there's more. Still using his own name, he's booked a SUV to be picked up from Dane County when he arrives.

Unable to think of a single way to reply to Jane that doesn't involve a screen full of question marks, I take another mouthful of coffee and try to imagine a scenario in which Ethan would abruptly up and leave for, and I currently can't come up with another way to put it, his childhood home. Barring it being mission related, and I'm not aware of any chatter coming out of Wisconsin, all points seem to be leading to something family related, and I just don't understand any of it. The family farm, I believe, was somewhere on the outskirts of Portage, so flying into Madison and hiring a car would be the logical way of getting there, but... Why?

I just don't get it.

\- OK. Security footage confirms that he did indeed catch the flight. WTF's going on, huh? Why would he, and this is what it would have to look like to you too, be heading home?

Sighing, I pick the phone up and am halfway through writing a response to Jane that thanks her for all the effort she's putting into this while, at the same time, all but begging her to stand down, when another message pops up on the screen and captures my full attention. Differing from a standard text in that it's an online link to a news article, I open it up without pausing to doubt its relevance and what fills the small screen of my phone immediately causes all the pieces to fall clumsily in to place. 

No. It doesn't explain the need for secrecy and inability to talk about it.

What it does answer, however, is the why.

And, yes. I get it.

I get the need to be there even if I don't fully understand the way he went about it.

And... Yes. Absolutely. I know what I need to do now. To hell with acceptance and stoicism. To hell, even, with self-doubt and the concern that I could be about to make a huge mistake by popping up where I wasn't invited. This now is about instinct and, because I know I'll regret it if I don't, doing what I want, and perhaps even... need to do.

The article being nothing if not succinct, I've got it memorised and am just gulping down the last of my coffee when another text message from Jane flashes up on the screen.

\- Don't waste your time looking for a flight. The next direct flight isn't until Boxing Day, and stuffing around looking for connecting flights just isn't worth it. So... Drive safe?

This, the lack of available flights, not exactly surprising me any, I quickly write a reply to Jane – 'Leaving now and, yes, I'll drive safely. Thanks for doing the leg work – and for giving me the kick up the ass I clearly needed. Enjoy the sun, sea, and surf – and don't worry. I've got this' – before dumping my cup in the sink and, with the phone still in my hand, jogging up the stairs and into the bedroom. Grabbing my spare, always pre-packed and ready to go, kit bag from the back of the cupboard, I sling it over my shoulder and, without paying all that much attention to where it is I'm putting my feet as I head back down the stairs, bring up Google Maps on the phone and enter the location of where it is I now fully expect to find Ethan. While the drive time of fourteen hours doesn't surprise me any more than there being no flights did, I still groan at the sight of both the number and the route it's laid out for me and, not for the first time, make a mental note that I really should do something about finally getting a pilot's licence. 

Retrieving my keys from the kitchen table, I shove my glasses in my pocket, set the alarm, and walk through the door into the garage from the laundry. Getting in the car, I throw my bag onto the back seat, note, with just the smallest amount of shock, that it's somehow made it to nearly at ten at night and that, even with everything going to plan I won't get there until around three in the afternoon, and, because, let's face it, there's nothing I can do about any of it, just shrug as I start the car.

What will be will, after all, just be.

~*~*~*~

'You have reached your destination.'

Frowning, I bring the car to a stop and gaze through first the windscreen, and then the passenger and driver's side windows, at fields of what I can only assume are some crop or another. Tired, despite all the coffee, Coke, and energy drinks I've been pouring down my throat, from the drive and suddenly doubting the technology behind Google Maps, I contemplate just biting the bullet and calling Ethan in order to beg for directions when, about half a mile up the road, I spot it. A dirt track with an old fashioned looking white letter box. While I'm too far away to make out the number painted in black on it, I mentally cross my fingers that it's nonetheless where I'm going and return my foot to the accelerator. Reaching the track, I turn on to it without even bothering to check the number and, as the headlights automatically come on in response to the rapidly approaching twilight, manoeuvre the car through the many pot holes as the phone merrily repeats its declaration of having done it's job by getting me to my destination. 

Not yet entirely convinced of this, mind you, I take my hand off the steering wheel just long enough to turn the phone off and concentrate on my driving. My car being an Audi sedan that, while perfectly suited to both city and highway driving, has never met a barely maintained dirt track before, I drive slowly and bump my way along for what would have to be close to ten minutes. Then, as the track takes a sharp turn to the right, I finally see it and, without even really thinking about what I'm doing, slam my foot on the brake and bring the car to an abrupt stop. 

It...

The news article having been clear in that the fire had razed the house to the ground, I thought I knew what to expect. I mean, it's not as though I've never seen the dreadful aftermath of a fire before. It's also not as though, never having even seen the house when it was still standing, I've got an emotional attachment to it or anything.

It... should... just be a destroyed building. Something I've seen far too may of and generally don't pay any notice to.

But...

This was a family home. The heart and soul of a still working farm, if you like. Ethan grew up here. His mother ran the farm until she died, if my memory serves me correctly, in that very house. The house that's been in his family for generations and which was probably even built by one of his ancestors.

And now it's gone. The fire, which according to the article, was most likely caused by an electrical fault, having been both fierce and thorough, there's now nothing left but rubble and memories of past times.

And that's why, even if he brushes me off or never says so in as many words, I understand Ethan's need to drop everything and get here. He may not have been here for years or have any interest in farming, but it's still, and forever will be, home. I can't relate to it personally as my parents seemed to move house with every new job or promotion and we never stayed anywhere longer than two years, but that doesn't stop me from understanding it. Especially now that I can see it. The lush countryside. The tranquillity. The odd feeling as though, here, nothing else in the world has to matter much.

Slightly taken aback by how the sight of the ruined house has effected me, I drive the car slowly closer and, as the track takes another turn, spot a new – and out of place looking – SUV parked by a large wooden barn. Traditional in structure and with it's faded red and white paint, it looks exactly like how barns are always represented in illustrated children's books, and, somewhat illogically given that I've never been here before, I'm glad to see that it's still standing.

Bringing the Audi to a stop by the SUV, I turn off the engine and, as an unwelcome sense of doubt – 'is he even here? 'what am I going to say?' – settles over me, open the door and get out. Stiff from the long drive and already regretting not having brought a thicker coat with me thanks to the coldness of the air, I'm in the process of stretching my arms above my head in the hope of getting some feeling back into them when a side door in the barn opens and Ethan steps through it. Wearing a seriously old looking, khaki winter jacket that I've never seen before and which would have to be at least two sizes two big, he squints across at me with an unreadable expression on his face as, caught mid stretch, I give him a cautious smile and brace myself for whatever it is that's about to come next.

There's no denying that it's good to see him, and regardless of how he reacts to my unannounced arrival I know in myself that I've done the right thing by getting myself here for him, but, dear God, if he yells at me for sticking my nose in or feels compelled to deliver a lecture on keeping out of his business, then...

… Let's just say I probably won't take it very well, and leave it at that.

I'm tired, hungry, feeling a peculiar sense of loss for a house that I don't even know what it looked like when it was standing, and all I want is for Ethan to see that my motives are pure, that I'm both willing and able to be here for him in whatever way he needs me.

So...

… Fingers crossed.

Dropping my arms to my side, I take a couple of slow steps towards the barn as, his face breaking out in a broad smile of recognition, Ethan hurries towards me. “Will!” he exclaims as, reaching me, he immediately wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me tightly against him. “I can't believe you're here,” he adds, all but crushing me with the intensity of is embrace as, hugging him back, I can feel all the doubt and tension just up and leaving me. “Just... It's just so good to see you.” Pulling his arms away, he closes both his hands around my shoulders and kisses my forehead. “Even if you did have to track me down...”

“It wasn't me,” I protest, holding my hands up in a display of innocence. “In fact, I can give you my word that I actually had no involvement in tracking your location at all.”

“Jane?” Ethan gives me a knowing look as, linking his arm around mine, he begins to lead towards the barn. “Come on. Getting to the bottom of who it was spying on me can wait until we're inside in the warm.”

“Who said I was going to reveal my source?” I retort, bumping him with my hip and causing both of us to smile at the – almost too perfect to be real – simplicity of the moment. I made it, we're together, he's obviously okay with it, and – thank God for small mercies – I already know that it was all worth it.

“Oh...” Reaching the barn, he opens the door and gestures me in. “As you should well know, I have ways of getting the information I need,” he murmurs calmly as his knowing look gives way to one of sheer, practised cunning.

“It was Jane!” Mock cringing at the implied threat in response, I pull my arm free of his and laugh. “She saw you at Dulles, okay, and wouldn't take no for an answer when I reacted by saying I thought it was best to just leave you to it...” Pausing as I suddenly start to feel a little awkward, I shrug and play for time by looking around the interior of the cavernous barn. The area we're standing in taking up perhaps a quarter of the space, it's lit by three bare light bulbs hanging from beams in the ceiling and presumably running on generator power, while a fire burning in a converted oil drum emits a comfortable degree of warmth that is kept contained in the area by a number of well placed bales of straw. A couple of old wooden chairs sit by the drum, as does a cardboard box that appears to be lined in knitted sweaters which I find unusual, and an even older looking table half hidden under an assortment of Thermos bottles, casserole dishes and plastic Tupperware containers stands pushed against the wall by the door. As it's not lit, I can't see what the rest of the barn holds behind the bales and hope that at least some of the family's historical pieces were stored there and survived the fire.

“I...” Shrugging again as I force myself back to the reality of here and now, I walk around the oil drum and sink down in the closest chair. “I wanted to follow you, of course I did, but I... I also accepted that if you'd wanted me to know or... to be with you... that you would have told me. I didn't like it, but I would have, that is... I was going to let it go if Jane hadn't intervened and sent me the news article on the fire. Then, when I saw it, all I could think about was how much of a shock it must have been for you and how, even if it risked crossing a line, I wanted to there for you. If... Uh.... If you're pissed with me or wish I'd left well enough alone, then...”

“I'm not pissed with you,” Ethan interrupts with a gentle smile as he sits down in the other chair and immediately grabs both of my hands in his. “If anything I'm pissed at myself for reacting in the closed off, knee jerk way that I did when Michael, that's my cousin by the way, the one that's been living here with his family and keeping the place going, called to tell me what had happened. My only thought, even though there was another voice in my head screaming that it was completely illogical and a waste of time, was to get back here to see for myself. Coming down the stairs after taking the call, I wanted to tell you, to... even ask if you'd consider coming with me, but... I couldn't do it. I couldn't dump my problems on you because I told myself you were simply better off not knowing, that... it was my problem, not yours. It still doesn't make any sense to me, but... at the time, nothing else mattered. I felt pulled back to a life I'd long ago left behind and I just had to go. It was stupid of me, and I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Inconvenienced, maybe, but not hurt,” I correct, twisting my hands around so that our fingers are entwined, “and, believe it or not, I understand. You got the news that the house you'd grown up in had burnt down and, for once, screw logic, your heart told you had to go there. Sure, you could have gone about it better and, yeah, telling me wouldn't have killed you as my only reaction would have been to offer to help in anyway I could, but... I get it, I do.”

“It was stupid of me,” Ethan repeats, shaking his head in apparent frustration. “Yes, I grew up here, and yes, I had a happy childhood full of good memories linked with this place, but... It's still just a location. I never wanted to be a farmer. Assuming I even make it that far, I've never wanted to retire back here and potter around the barn like all the other men in my family have been content to do in their old age. Hell, I haven't even been back here since my mother died and, if you must know, had made my peace with never seeing it again. But...” Trailing off, he pulls his hands free of mine and runs his fingers through his hair. “Even though I'm glad to be here and, especially now that you're here too, don't regret coming, I don't get it. It just doesn't make any sense to me.”

“And yet it does to me,” I reply, countering Ethan's immediate look of surprise with a small shrug and soft smile. “What? It does. This is your home. For seventeen or so years I suspect it was close to your entire world and, even if you never consciously thought about it, it's just always been here. To lose the house, even if you haven't seen it for years, is a dreadful shock and no-one can tell you how you should feel about it or how you're expected to react.”

“I still feel as though I overreacted,” he mutters, “and God knows I went about it badly where you're concerned, so...”

“It's not about me. Sure, I might have sulked for a bit before Jane took over, but it's in the past now and, again, I get it.”

“Well, I'm glad that makes one of us,” Ethan replies, slumping back in his chair and giving me a wry look.

“Okay. Fine.” Accepting that I'm a little too wired from all the caffeine buzzing around my system to be up for a deep, meaningful, and well thought out conversation right at this very moment, I fix Ethan with what I truly hope comes across as a stern look and close my hand tightly around his knee. “As this appears to be how your mind operates at the best of times... Maybe you dropped everything and came here because this is where you're most needed. Have you ever thought of that?”

“Needed? To do what?” he retorts with a dismissive shake of his head. “This place might be in my name, but that's where my involvement in it ends. In fact... Hell. I couldn't even tell you what the last crop was.”

“Maybe not, but was your cousin pleased to see you?”

“Stunned, more like.”

“But still pleased, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “He was actually.”

“And... Let me guess. You've been busy all day.”

Ethan nods again. “Between doing the gracious thing with all the locals dropping by to offer their assistance, and the business thing with the firemen and rep from the insurance agency, yeah, it's been pretty full on. I've seen people that I haven't seen since mom's funeral and you'd think, going on the way they treat me, that I'd only been out of town for a week, not years. They also...” He gestures over towards the table. “As you can see, they also think it's their responsibility to ensure I'm kept fed and hydrated, which...”

“Is both lovely and neighbourly of them,” I finish, eyeing off a Thermos of what could well be coffee while simultaneously telling myself that I definitely don't need it. Want, perhaps, but certainly do not need. “Just... See? You've made yourself useful and everyone's been pleased to see you. Now... Isn't that enough of a reason to be here all in itself?”

“Even hyped up on caffeine...”

“What gave it away?”

“Your eyes are a little bright and you've got far too much energy for a person who has spent more than half a day behind the wheel.”

“Oh...”

“You telling me I'm wrong?”

“Maybe... just maybe I may have overdone it a little,” I reply with both an airy shrug and a roll of my eyes. “Hey, it was either that or stop, and... and I had somewhere I wanted to be.”

“Wanted, huh?” Shifting his chair closer to mine, Ethan drapes his arm around my shoulders and gently pulls me against him.

“Needed,” I murmur, relaxing my grip on his knee as I lean into familiar warmth.

“Needed. Definitely needed,” he confirms, kissing the top of my head. “Now, as I'd been going to say though... Even hyped up on caffeine your logic is no match for mine as, and don't let this go to your head or anything, you're right in that, as it happens, I have been able to play my part in being here.”

“Of course, I'm right,” I respond, digging my elbow lightly into his side and flashing him a grin. “At the risk of sounding as though I'm jumping the gun, where to from here, huh. You say the place is in your name, but your cousin...”

“The neighbour to the left has already put in an offer to buy the entire farm,” Ethan interrupts in a neutral tone that doesn't give me so much as a hint as to what he thinks of this. “A good offer, at that. He's wanted the land for years, and I know he'd keep it as a working farm, but... I don't know. There's a lot of things to consider.”

“Your cousin...”

“Michael's older than I am and his interests are moving away from farming and more into breeding horses. Plus Susan, that's his wife, loves to cook and I think would like to spend more time doing that.”

“Children?”

“At college, and by all accounts they have even less interest in farming than I do.”

“So... It makes sense to accept the offer, then,” I murmur, watching Ethan closely to gauge his reaction. Logic in these sorts of situations may be all well and good, but as he's already demonstrated, the heart can over rule the head when you least expect it and make every decision far harder than common sense tells you it should be.

“It makes perfect sense,” he replies in the same neutral tone as he gazes down at the fire burning in the drum. “Mike and Susie could use the money to set themselves up and it would all just be done and dusted. The house is gone now, I have no use for the place, and...” Falling silent, he removes his arm from around my shoulder and shrugs. “It makes sense to sell it.”

Hearing reluctance in Ethan's voice even if he's not willing to admit it to itself, I rub my hand along his thigh and, wanting him to see that there's always other options, issue forth with the first idea to pop into my head. “Or... What about selling most of the land, but keeping what the house was on, and, I don't know, just enough land for your cousin to run horses on? With the money from that and insurance, the house could be rebuilt, Mike and his wife, who I bet have roots in the area and don't particularly want to have to move, could breed horses and cook, or... open a bed and breakfast or hobby farm if they wanted to, and this land, with this barn and a new house on it, could stay in the family. It... I'm not saying it's the greatest suggestion, but it's a start, you know. A way to at least keep a part of your family history still in the family...”

“I...” Sitting up straighter, Ethan looks at me and smiles both brightly and with obvious relief. “As I hadn't even considered anything like that, have I told you recently just how lost I'd be without you? In fact, as you'll be seeing them tomorrow, I'll even let you put the idea to Mike and Susie yourself.”

“What?” Where did that come from? Nowhere in my – granted, somewhat limited in scope – grand scheme did I ever imagine... being introduced to any of the family. Don't get me wrong. Curiosity being nothing if not a strong motivator, of course it's something I've randomly thought about, and, while I'm at it, I'd only be lying if I said I wasn't interested in meeting some of Ethan's family, but... Like this? Completely without warning and the middle of the fallout of losing the house? “I...”

“In case it's escaped your attention, tomorrow is actually Christmas Day.”

“I... I knew that.” I did. Over fifteen hours behind the wheel had just caused it to momentary slip my mind, that's all.

“As I'm not entirely sure I believe that,” Ethan replies with a laugh, “I'll simply move on with telling you that, as there was no way I was going to be able to get out of it, I'm expected at Susie's parents' place for Christmas lunch. Her folks have a farm about fifty miles away and that's where she and Mike are staying. Needless to say, as I'd planned to be on the road back to D.C. first thing in the morning, I tried to decline, but...”

“They wouldn't have a bar of it?”

“Not even close. In fact, I'd say it was non-negotiable.”

“Oh...”

“Please. Control your enthusiasm. I know it wasn't how you were expecting Christmas to be, but...”

“I... Sorry.” I hold my hands up in a display of surrender and dredge up a wan smile. “You're right. It's not what I expected, but, hey, nor is it exactly what you expected either, and... If you don't think it'll put them out, I'd love to meet your cousin and... uh... his wife's extended family. “But...” I shrug helplessly, unsure as to how to best broach the subject. “Won't they, you know, think it's odd?”

“Someone they've never met before landing on their front doorstep for Christmas lunch?” Ethan queries facetiously as he closes his hand around my knee and gives it a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Stop looking so worried. Christmas isn't Christmas around these parts without some random relative bringing along someone unexpected, there's always enough food to feed an army and, before you ask, they already know I up and abandoned my partner, my... male partner at that, to get here, so... Trust me.” Grinning, he gives me an appraising look. “As you'll be a cause of great fascination, you'll be met with open arms.”

“Marvellous. That really helps put my mind at ease,” I mutter, hiding my instinctive pleasure at learning that Ethan's already mentioned me – and the true nature of our relationship – behind a glib response and an arched brow. “I'll be the day's entertainment, then...”

“Pretty much.” Beaming, he reaches up and ruffles my hair. “Cheer up. It'll be a day you'll probably never forget.”

“Mmm... Looking forward to it already,” I mock grumble as, batting his hand away, I stand up and survey our cosy yet rustic surroundings. Now... Don't take this as an insult to the accommodation on offer, and, yes, before you feel compelled to mention it, I know we've spent the night in far worse, but... What about heading back into Portage and seeing if we can get a motel room? You know, one with a nice hot shower that'll at least make me more presentable for... uh... my moment in the spotlight tomorrow.”

“If you're worried about having a little stray straw sticking out from behind your ear, don't... If anything it'll just help you fit in,” Ethan retorts with the sort of easy going grin that tells me he's enjoying this far too much.

“Oh. Very droll. If you don't have a problem with your partner looking like something a cat has dragged in, then...”

“This from a man who has met heads of state wearing the same tactical gear that he'd had on for five days in a row?”

“But that was only some old politician! This is your family and... and...” I slump back down in the chair and stare down at my feet. “You'll probably laugh at this, but I want to make a good impression. I... I don't want them to think that you could do better...”

“Hey... Shhh... I know you're tired and full of caffeine, but that's enough of that,” Ethan replies soothingly as he crouches down next to me and once again closes his hands around mine. “I could take you around there right now and all they'd see is a man who drove all the way from D.C. to be with me and that right there would be enough for them. As for being able to do better? As I know that I can't, and that I'm exceptionally lucky to have you, that's all that matters there, too. So... Cheer up and think happy thoughts.”

Touched by the complete lack of hesitation and conviction in Ethan's response, I nod and smile weakly. “I'd still like a shower, though..”

“While I can't give you a shower, I can offer you a bath... of sorts,” he responds, standing up and pointing towards the back of the barn. “Okay. I get that this is far more... rustic charm... than five star, but there's still a toilet in the back over there and hot and cold running water. And what is also hidden by that wall of straw, and I know exactly where it is because I saw it earlier this afternoon, is the ancient tin bath my great grandfather's generation used to use for the family bath tub. You know the sort, you see them in old country and western movies all the time.” Pausing, he looks at me hopefully. “I'll have to get it out and give it a bit of clean, and getting the hot water into it could require a bit of an effort, but... What do you say? Are you willing to give it a go?”

“This bath...” Getting to my feet, I slide my arms around Ethan's waist and pull him against me. “As I do know the sort you're talking about, is it big enough to fit two?”

“If neither party has an issue with... really... getting up close and personal with each other,” Ethan murmurs directly into my ear as he relaxes against me, “it'll fit two just fine.”

“That's what I was hoping you'd say,” I reply, my unease of only a moment ago already a thing of the past as I find myself looking forward to what's to come. “In fact... What are you waiting for, huh?” Laughing, I take a step back and am preparing to land a playful swat on his backside when, out of the corner of my eye, something appears to move in the pocket of his coat. “Uh... Hopefully this doesn't come as too much of a shock to you, but I could sworn I just saw your pocket move.”

“Oh.” Ethan rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Oops.”

“Oops?” I repeat, giving him an expectant look as, let's face it, his half-assed attempt at a response didn't clarify a damn thing. “Did your pocket just move of its own volition, or didn't it? And, if it did, please, help me out here and explain... why... exactly it appears to have a life of its own.”

“Actually,” he murmurs with a smug looking smirk, “seeing as you clearly want to know so badly, close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“What?”

“Don't you trust me?”

“Yes. No... Maybe! I don't know. Why can't you just tell me what it is that's calling your pocket home?”

“Pockets.”

“Plural? There's something in both of them?” I don't know whether I should be surprised, curious, or alarmed at where this odd attempt at a conversation is going.

“There is,” Ethan confirms, giving both pockets a gentle pat as his smirk broadens and I only just control the urge to hop up and down on the spot in impatience.

“Then... Tell me!”

“Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”

“Fine,” I grumble, reluctantly accepting that Ethan has the upper hand here and that, if I really want to know what it is hiding in his coat, I'm just going to have to play along. “You win.” Dutifully closing my eyes, I hold out my hands and, having absolutely no clue as to what to expect here, all but hold my breath as I wait for whatever it is to be placed in them. 

“Trust me,” he murmurs, carefully placing something small, warm and furry in my hands, “knowing you, you'll like it.”

My eyes flying open, I gaze down at the two tiny kittens struggling to get their balance in my hands and can't help but smile with genuine delight. Old enough to have their eyes open, but still small, the slightly bigger of the two is a classic grey tabby, while the other is an equally as classic black and white tuxedo. And, yes. Being nothing if not a sucker for animals of all descriptions, I'm immediately smitten. “For me? You shouldn't have!”

“Believe me, I didn't,” Ethan responds drily as, with the faintest hint of a smile tugging on his lips, he gazes down at the kittens. “One of the firemen found them once they'd managed to get the fire under control. The mother, if she survived, being nowhere to be found, it somehow fell on me to keep them warm, safe, and fed. Not wanting them to escape their box and disappear, I put them in my pockets to keep warm when I heard the car pull up, and... uh... promptly forgot all about them.”

“Oops. Indeed,” I reply, still smiling no doubt like a complete idiot as I curl my finger around and stroke the tabby on the head. “What happens when you leave, though? They're too young to be left to fend for themselves.”

“I assume Susie's family will take them in, but... and I can hardly believe I'm going to say this...” Pausing, he gives a look of – albeit feigned – long suffering and, with his hand on my arm, guides me back over to the chair and gestures for me to sit down. “If you feel as though your life is incomplete without two half feral kittens in,” he continues once I'm settled in the chair and the kittens are tentatively exploring my lap, “then... They're all yours. I can see you're already rapt in them, and... in lieu of having been able to get you a present of any description, let alone a far better one, uh... Merry Christmas?”

“You shouldn't have, and, okay, I know you actually didn't,” I reply, still grinning as both the simplicity and sheer... perfectness... of everything that's unfolded since I got out of the car threatens to overwhelm me, “but... I accept. Ignoring that I don't even have anything to give you in return at the moment, I would... love... to have two half feral kittens for Christmas. In fact, as they'll be a little bit of your family home living with us, I can't think of a better present.”

“Given what I owe you just for being here, you're too easy,” Ethan responds, pulling the other chair closer and taking a seat on it before carefully picking up the black and white kitten and placing it down on his lap. “Just... Will... Thank you. Thank you for coming. Thank you for understanding, better, I might add, than I'd been doing myself. Thank you, even, for accepting the kittens for as present when, seriously, you deserve much, much more from me,” he murmurs thickly, his gaze locked on mine as he absent mindedly strokes the kitten. “Just... Thank you. From spending Christmas Eve in a barn to being open to spending Christmas Day with a bunch of people you don't know, you... You mean the world to me. I know I do a shit job of showing it, and God knows I need to do better, but you do. So... Uh... Thank you. For everything.”

“There's nothing...” Falling silent as I realise going down the well worn path of simply brushing off Ethan's both heartfelt and heart-warming confession would only detract from the moment, I reach across and take his hand in mine. “When you left yesterday I was sitting at the kitchen table writing what seemed to be a never ending list for what I thought was required to make the perfect Christmas,” I state, keeping my eyes on Ethan's as the tabby kitten does it's very best to burrow under my sweater. “There was food, and decorations, and I was already dreading how long I knew I was going to have to spend at the shops. Again, I thought it was what I both had to have, and had to do to make the day one to remember. It would have been exhausting, and an exercise in consumerism, and... I know already that this is better. Far, far better. I'm sorry about the house, and I'm sorry about how we both went about things in terms of keeping our mouths shut and not speaking up, but... What I'm not sorry about is this. Any of it. Not the long drive, or our surroundings, or the fact I've now got a kitten doing... I have no idea what... under my sweater, as this is exactly where I want to be. With you. I want to spend Christmas... and every other day... with you.”

“Today is the beginning of the rest of our lives?” Ethan suggests, tightening his hand around mine as a genuinely happy looking smile lights up his face. “Or something like that, anyway.”

“Try exactly like that,” I respond adamantly as, using my free hand, I retrieve the now decidedly ruffled looking kitten from under my sweater and place it back on my lap. “If we talk instead of keeping silent, and don't forget or gloss over how much we mean to each other, then... Onwards and upwards, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Ethan confirms, leaning over and, after casting a pointed glance at the two kittens, kissing my cheek. “Besides, thanks to not knowing, in this instance, when to keep my mouth shut, we're responsible for these two furry horrors now and...”

“My... purrfect... Christmas presents, you mean,” I interrupt teasingly as, releasing his hand, I pick up the tabby kitten and, cradling it in my palms, hold it out to Ethan so he too can marvel at it's cuteness.

“You just had to go there, didn't you,” Ethan mutters, groaning at my admittedly not all that brilliant play on words.

“I did.”

“And yet... you shouldn't have.”

“And yet... you're stuck with me.”

“Both willingly and... forever gratefully so,” he quickly replies. “Just as you're stuck with me.”

“Willingly,” I respond both just as quickly and without even having to think about it. “Not to mention gratefully and, because the alternative doesn't bear thinking about, for all eternity.”

“I have to say I like the sound of that,” Ethan murmurs, giving my cheek another kiss.

“Good.” Taking a leaf out of Ethan's playbook, I give his cheek a lingering kiss. “Because that then makes both of us. Now... Moving on, here. Where's this up close and personal bath you were talking about?”

~ end ~

 

Alternative title?  
… The Purrfect Christmas?  
;-)


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